David Subacchi- Three Poems

NEVER POINT A GUN

Never point a gun at anyone

Said my grandfather

As I played in the sun

Taking my cowboy’s hand

To make me understand

Lowering my aim

With the tip of his thumb

Never point a gun at anyone

Never point a gun at anyone

Even if it’s not

A real one

Although it may be a toy

And you are just a boy

This is not something

That should be done

Never point a gun at anyone

Never point a gun at anyone

Loaded or unloaded

Or just in fun

Unless you’re on the battlefield

And the enemy will not yield

Or your life is in danger

And you can’t run

Never point a gun at anyone.

TITANIC

Another Titanic poem

what more is there to say?

a century of story telling

myth piling upon myth

avoiding the truth of

our foolish arrogance

sentimental legends

highlighted by Hollywood

drama failing to hide

the unexciting reality

Deep below the waves

an iron coffin lies

one more encrusted

reminder of human fragility.

SANDSTONE

Sandstone wind worn

Rinsed by rainfall

Stone of church

Oxford College

Victorian railway station

Hues of brown

Holding moisture

Surfaces rough

Sometimes smooth

Crumbling, stained

Scarred by holes

From long removed

Bolts and hinges

Sandstone arches

Slate topped roofs

Lead gutters

Down pipes

Gravelled yards

Uncut lawns

Sandstone a litany

Of history

Memories

Most photographed

Architecture

Sandstone

Each block

Each corner

Each pillar

Each wall

Has seen

It all.

David Subacchi lives in Wales UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He writes in both English and Welsh and performs his work regularly.

Cestrian Press has published two collections of his poems. ‘First Cut’ (2012) and ‘Hiding in Shadows’ (2014).  You can find more examples of his work simply by searching on line for DAVID SUBACCHI.